Slow Motion for me

I just realized that I drafted the wrong side of a motion. And I have thirty minutes until class. There is no chance I will be able to rewrite it, so I intend to play dumb and make believe that I was given no notice whatsoever that I was supposed to write for the prosecution.

On the other hand, I just found a case on point for my 4, 5, 6 motion. This professor usually has a "magic bullet" that goes into her motion assignments and I think it's safe to say that I'll be able to kill the werewolf on this one. Even when the case is a "fake" one, it's a rush when you find a case on point. It's like living in the O.C., or delivering a vicious roundhouse kick, or having a full house when your opponent has the nut flush. Actually, it's not better than any of those things, but it is kind of satisfying. Now the real pain is going to be spending hours in the library writing the damn thing.

Earlier this week I received notice that a brief I slapped together for an appeal had apparently succeeded and got a defendant out of a felony OWI. The premise of my argument was complete crap and I felt embarassed even submitting it, but I guess the Court of Appeals takes subject-matter jurisdiction seriously. In Wisconsin, the first OWI is a civil offense, and in my case, a prosecutor had taken mercy on (or didn't check the convictions record of) my client and charged him twice in a row with an OWI first. I argued that his second offense should have been charged criminally instead of just a fine, because he had the right to a public defender if that would have been the case (Hence this OWI would only be a fourth instead of a fifth). Never mind the fact that had the offense been charged as an OWI second, he would have spent a minimum of four days in jail upon conviction, and that it would have been universally stupid to demand criminal penalties instead of a civil forfeiture. Sometimes justice is in the details.

Here's to abusing the system whenever you can.

The weekend so far

I started out by turning down a couple of parties, mainly because I didn't really know the hosts and it takes me awhile to get to know someone, so it would have just been awkward for me. MZRM split down the middle, and the Z and one of the M's joined Laurance and Cristina in a game of poker. Of which I dominated. Hey Laurance, I call. I haven't had that kind of soul-crushing chip stack since last year and it almost hurt to return the chips to the case.

Afterwards, I walked to bar review at Brocach. My stay was brief, since the people I had hoped to see had either left or had someplace better to be. Maily 1L's and a bunch of tools.

Tomorrow, we party. I'm using this blog as a secondary informational bulletin: My place, alcohol, costumes, possibly a second rendition of "Golddigger." Douchebags, tools, and people dressed as the Crow will be excluded.

Nip/Tuck Recap

Huh??? Julia and the Midget male nurse? I thought for sure that the preview of that was going to be a dream sequence. I've seen the Nip/Tuck characters tie hams on a corpse to feed to alligators, smuggle heroin inside of breast implants, and battle drug dealers and serial rapists, but this one is almost too farfetched to believe. Nevertheless, it's better than anything else that has ever been done by any person in the history of the universe (excluding, of course, the O.C.). I also might add that the producers used good taste in hiring this particular midget actor, since he co-starred with Vin Diesel in Find me Guilty.

I was a little sad to see Mrs. Grubman die. We haven't seen her since season one, when she was a frequently recurring character. The doctors of McNamara/Troy confronted her about a plastic surgery addiction, but she countered with the fact that during her most recent surgery, they had left an instrument inside of her. After that point, her surgeries were free and frequent until she was debilitated by a stroke late in season one.

Sean was confronted at a restaurant by a little kid taunting his handicapped baby and he rightfully reminded the little shit that it wasn't okay to make fun of people (I am obviously excepted from this rule). In the end, he punched the kid's father, who promptly filed suit. Apparently, the McNamara's aren't getting good legal advice, because he went the next day to go apologize to the father and in the process made all kinds of damning admissions.

Apparently things start to go downhill pretty quickly, judging by the previews. Marlow, the male nurse, asks Sean for "height extension surgery" in order to be with a woman. What Sean doesn't know, is that the woman is his wife. Burn! In addition, I'm willing to bet that there will be some complications with the new baby, Connor. I can sense it coming, he won't live through this season. Kimber and Matt doing it will also have serious consequences on the extended McNamara/Troy family.

Top Gunner

Some people just don't get it. IT'S NOT OKAY TO BE A GUNNER. Nevertheless, we had a classic dual of the gunners today in Labor and Employment and it still pisses me off thinking about how much of my time they wasted.

Both of the gunners were 2Ls and both had engaged in blatant acts of gunnerism all semester. Every time the professor wanted the facts they were on it. Every time the prof wanted an answer to her questions, their hands were in the air. Every time their answers were pierced by the slightest fraction of silence, they had to fill it with their own opinions and inane babbling on policy.

Now, I'm used to people trying to talk like they're smarter than they really are. I do it all the time. However, I do NOT volunteer the information when it would waste everyone's time, I simply use big words in response to simple questions. (i.e. Where can I get a drink of water? Answer: The proper forum for your inquiry lies in the drinking fountain region. Public policy suggests that you should depress the button, lean forward, and ingest water in a manner befitting a canine). What really irritated me today was the fact that the gunners were extending class due to their volunteered responses on "policy."

When it comes to order and control, i side with Judge Posner. Once the red light goes on, discussion stops mid-sentence. I have to sit and listen to those idiots talk for fifty-five minutes three times a week, I will not do it an instant longer than I have to. However, today I watched as the clock approached, two minutes after ending time, three, five. I decided i needed to do something. I glared at both of the respective gunners with a look that said "I will tear out your vocal chords if you utter another sound." That did not work. Then I looked directly at the prof, closed my computer, and slammed my book shut loudly. She looked up at me and said "okay, people are signalling me that it's time to go."

Then, the gunner had the nerve to tell everyone there, that he had another comment to finish the discussion. Of course, gunner number two had to comment on the final comment, which got the professor started again. Enraged, i bolted upright and began to move down the aisle. The only problem was I'm near the middle of the row and I had to move through everyone's crap. Needless to say, I created a great deal of noise and disturbance. By the time I made it to the end of the row, others were starting to get up, but I was still the first to the door. I glanced at the clock: eight minutes after class was supposed to end.

I'm all about bright line rules, and in response to this chronic conundrum, I propose the following: When the class time hits zero, you get up and leave. No discussion, no pleasantries, just leaving. If you have to discuss things further, take your discussion elsewhere, or post it on the internet. Those gunners cost me eight minutes, plus another twenty or so to type this, rounding up to 30 minutes. Since I bill at 200 dollars an hour, the gunners are jointly and severally liable to me for $100. With it, I will have a social gathering with punch and pie and invite everyone but them.

Ben Whoffleck!?

What? Huh? Who? How come we haven't heard about the provisions in the new terror bill before?? For those that don't know, Bush signed into law today, a bill suspending the right of habeas corpus for all "terror suspects" and giving the President the power to flexibly interpret legislation to determine what level of torture is authorized at any given time.

The last time I read the Constitution (two minutes ago) it read "The Privilege of the Writ of Habeas Corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in Cases of Rebellion or Invasion the public Safety may require it."

Are we really in a rebellion or invasion? Is our public safety that badly in jeopardy that we have to yank habeas to facilitate torture? What the hell was Congress thinking??? If it was illegal for Lincoln to suspend Habeas Corpus during the civil war, I'm pretty sure it's illegal for Bush to do it now, but since those "suspects" aren't entitled to lawyers, nobody will ever have standing to challenge their incarcerations.*

In addition, I thought our government was based on separation of powers. Apparently, the executive branch now has the authority to unilaterally "legislate" changes in the anti-terror bill when it sees fit, and to judicially interpret the law. I don't know about everyone else, but it makes me incredibly uneasy, giving the President such broad authority to change and interpret the law. The way I read it, the executive branch is now virtually unaccountable for torture and interrogations. Wow.

*Note: I'm siding with the Souter-Ginsberg-Stevens-Kennedy-Breyer position that some Constitutional protections extend to U.S. actions beyond the borders of the U.S.

My Superiority Complex

I know I already commented once today, but sometimes you are confronted with monumental stupidity, you have to shout it out to the world.

I was volunteering my two hours a semester (i.e. resume builder) at the Unemployment Appeals Clinic and a potential "client" walked in. She was upset because she had been fired for drinking on the job, using profanity with customers, and consistently showing up late. I was explaining to her why her appeal was unlikely to succeed. A Kaplan-esque gentleman sat down at the table next to me and interjected comments about how all supervisors exaggerate and she should litigate this. I politely asked him who the fuck he thought he was and he mumbled something about being a lawyer. Then he somehow got sidetracked on Bush and how he made it impossible for good people to keep a job and how the war on Iraq is causing unemployment. Needless to say, this sounded like a certain idiot in one of my classes (you all know who I'm talking about) and I declined to ask him how that was relevant to anything at all. In fact, I was tempted to begin barking like a dog, because that would have made more sense.

In order to avoid a scene, I declined to inform him that he should help himself to a fucking legal book, because he was sounding like a fucking retard. In a room full of 1Ls who had never done this before, he spent 45 minutes watching and critiquing me. Needless to say, I was offended that I garnered three times the observation that the "new guy" 1Ls received. I really felt like one of those dancing bears everyone was pointing at behind glass walls. Only in this case a neo-Leonard Kaplan was pointing at me. It's amazing how experienced attorneys can sound like complete morons. Then this guy gave me his business card and told me to email him with my plans for these clients. TOLD ME, as in "mandate." Johnny Utah does not believe in taking orders from people he cannot respect. I intend to farm these people out to eager 1Ls, so the only time I will have to email this guy is if the attachment is 45 pounds of C4 explosives.

So what's the moral of the story? If you're not an expert, don't act like one, because people like me will talk shit about you behind your back on the internet. Take THAT.

Random Thoughts From One Stuck at School

5 minutes earlier...

So I've been pretty much banished to school all day. I'm sitting at my library table, next to a one L and I'm determiend to type this loudly because he is determined to breathe loudly. I waited all day for free food from the Dean's Cup victory, but alas, I was confronted by a ginormous line that was clearly inpenetrable. So I'm back up here because I have an hour to kill before fulfilling my quasi-annual (semester) pledge to do intake at the unemployment compensation clinic.

I managed to leave my regular tennis shoes at home on my recent trip, and I'm wearing my "b pair" which are disconnecting at the soles and make a loud and obnoxious squeeking sound anytime I walk. You'd think that I'd be embarassed, but nah.

I'm contemplating going over to bother one of my favorite people at the library, but this would have been three times in about ten minutes, so I'll give her another few minutes so I won't look like an idiot. However, the alternative of reading more Labor and Employment Law is clearly not an option.

Later...

Someone just yelled the name of a prominent law school douchebag and I'm listening to the sounds of Mike Hall rambling about how he wore the same shirt several days in a row. Also Dean Davis just proclaimed that he would NOT like to be portrayed as a drunken bum during law revue...then he took a slug of champagne. (All of this is happening at the Dean's Cup ceremony) Well, I've managed to kill thirty minutes by rambling onto this post, and for those who read it closely enough, you will see that I followed the exact format that Jay-Z used to transition between time periods in his music video: Dirt off your Shoulders.

My Fourth Amendment Adventure

So I was on my way back to Western Wisconsin for an interview and brief visit with my family. I had rented a car, due to the untimely departure of the Ford Tempo. Needless to say, the vehicle performed at a higher level than my previous ride, and my already normal speeding was exacerbated by the smooth acceleration.

I saw the trooper well in advance, so I'm internally baffeled by the fact that I didn't slow down. I guess I thought I was invincible. And guess what: I FUCKING AM!!!

The officer turned on his headlights, pulled behind me, and activitated his lightbar. He dismounted his unit and approached said vehicle (me). The trooper asked me how fast I was going, and I gave him a very weak "73." He told me: "try 92." Needless to say, the staredown was intense over the next few seconds, as he asked me questions trying to trap me into a lie. He knew full well that it was a rental car, and that I was not the owner. I told him that I had to speed home so I could get a full night's sleep before my interview.

He came back with a warning and then asked me a series of questions about my destination, where I was a student, and if I had any drugs, guns, or large amounts of cash. Viewing things from the totality of the circumstances, from the officer's point of view, I was probably acting suspicious.

1. I had rented a vehicle to travel a short distance, without any luggage in sight.
2. I described my destination as a city an hour away from my interview site.
3. I hadn't shaved in a couple of days, my eyes were bloodshot, and I probably looked like a douchebag.
4. The radio was tuned to a station playing "Do your chains hang low?"
5. It was night.
6. I was wearing a black jumpsuit, gold chains, had pasted a fake columbian moustache on my face, and was talking to Pablo Escobar on my cell phone.

Apparently, the officer thought so too, because he tried to play "good cop" with me and just issue a warning. After asking these questions, he asked the big one: Can I search your vehicle? I promptly responded [as the camera zoomed to my mouth] NO.

The trooper persisted, telling me that only people with something to hide refused, then he told me that my story of being a student didn't add up, because I was 25 and "a little old for it." I responded that I happened to be a third-year law student and asked if I was free to go. He said they may have to call a dog, but I think he knew full well that since he had already issued me a warning for the original stop, he had no reasonable suspicion to hold me further and the staredown indicated I had my finger on the lawsuit trigger. I asked him, well you calling the dog or not? He said "have a nice night, sir," and I drove off, keeping it well under the speed limit until I lost him.

Granted, I probably didn't need to be a prick, but frankly, every now and then people have to stick up for their right to refuse searches, lest the Constitution be eroded once more. The moral of this story? Be cool and you can go 27 miles per hour over the speed limit without consequences. I can dodge bullets, baby.

Eh

I held off on this post yesterday in order to properly commemorate the Ford Tempo. However, the anger from my experiences yesterday hasn't subsided.

As far as the transcripts, I should have known what to expect. Afterall, Mr. McNamara fully disclosed the ineptitude and corruption of the UW when discussing his experiences. But my trip to the new "Welcome Center" truly shocked the conscience. I should have known that the whole trip would be bad news when discovering that the transcripts were located in the "Welcome Center." Afterall, in Red Dawn, the Soviets opened up a Soviet-American Welcome Center, and the Americans were anything but welcome.

I went to the seventh floor, fully aware that I would have to pay eight dollars for something I had gotten for free the last two years, so I think I was ready for an argument before it even began. However, what transpired was ridiculous. I get to the bursar's office and am told to go to the registrar to apply. Then the registrar tells me that we have to submit order forms online. "What for?" I ask. She responds by telling me it makes things much more efficient. I pointed out that things were pretty efficient last year when all we had to do was swipe a student ID and press "print." I think that pissed her off. She tried giving me some lame explanation that staff members were utilized more efficiently and I cut her off to ask whether I could apply today.

Yes, there is a form to "request" transcripts. However, it takes FOUR TO SIX BUSINESS DAYS to get them. I asked nicely if I could get them the same day. Not unless I wanted to pay an expedited printing fee. I could clearly see this woman was playing Solitaire and I asked her nicely to do her job and print me a fucking transcript. She complied and said I had to go over to the bursar to pay. I went over and was told that the one person they had to handle payments was out until 2:30 (this was around noon). Furious, I returned to the registrar's office. She told me to come back later. My mind raced with things to say, in particular, how they would be liable for consequential damages if I didn't get my job applications out due to their ineptitude, but I let it pass. Then I noticed that the foreign student in front of me was getting "unofficial transcripts" for free. I asked and they gave me one. How come I couldn't have ten like the kid in front of me? Oh, it turns out the UW has a program for international students that doesn't apply to me. I didn't even try pressing my equal protection argument.

So then I return to the law school so I could print some cases on lexis before parting with the Tempo. I sent my three cases down to the printer and was met with the realization that somebody was printing out several of the same cases. I asked the person responsible how many there would be and she responded "thirty-two of each." Each of five. For a presentation to high school students. And the printer was going pretty slow. I declined to do the math, but I was tempted to explain to her that in Chuck Norris' world, anything plus anything equals one: One roundhouse kick to the face. Then she smiled at me. Clearly, she wanted me, but that was no excuse to hold up my caselaw.

Needless to say, I was infinitely tempted to unplug the printer, hit "cancel job" and ensure that everyone in that lab burned in the fires of a thousand suns. But I think I kept my cool quite nicely. I gave the girl the look of death and I think she felt shunned. God damn 1L's.

Otherwise, today was a better day. It always amazes me how the little things can make a person's day, and it helps when you don't have to deal with morons. Plus, Nip/Tuck was fantastic and they started showing previews for the O.C.

Ford Tempo, I hardly knew you

After nine years with the same car, I have taken my Ford Tempo to live on a farm with other tempos. He was 12, which is 84 in car years.

I had the onerous task of cleaning out all of the crap I had thrown into my car over the last nine years and it really brought back some memories. For instance, I found a program for my high school graduation, one for my college graduation, and a menu for A8. I found an emergency light, CPR masks, a motion to dismiss, and about ten bucks in quarters. This car was a big part of my life from high school through law school and I'm kind of amazed at the level of nostalgia I'm feeling right now. [Disclaimer: Johnny Utah does not actually have "feelings"] Yes, in my vehicle, I was kind of a slob, but it was a sentimental kind of slobbishness that I think my car guests found endearing.

So here it goes, 12 great years of Ford Tempo [Note: Mentally play the theme song to Chariots of Fire as you relive these memories with me]

1. Hey Utah, your first car died (an 87' Nissan Sentra), take your dad's '94 Tempo. It has power windows and a tape deck for you to listen to your tapes of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. If you use your Walkman and tape adaptor, you can play the Chronic 2000.

2. "We would love it if you came to work with us on the ambulance." Don't drive that thing too fast.

3. "God damnit kid, you're driving recklessly and now you're going to get a ticket for it." "But I was responding to an ambulance call." "Why don't you try fighting it then?" [Note: I whipped that obnoxious cop's ass in court]

4. Handing off the keys to my brother for two years while I started college.

5. Becoming a Junior, getting an on-campus parking permit, reuniting with the Tempo, and driving everywhere. Places of note include T-Bell, Work, Work #2, and the bar.

6. Sitting in the passenger's seat as my sober roommate navigated us back from the bowling alley, bars, movie theatres, parties, and T-Bell.

7. Cruising the streets, picking up some twinkies and Big Gulps.

8. Visiting the UW law school and thinking "Wow, this place is so awesome, I bet there aren't any douchebags at all, and they would never stoop to charging students eight dollars for a transcript."

9. Leaving college and all of my friends and memories behind and going to Madison. I stopped at Q-doba my first day here. "Radar Love" was on the radio when I exited onto Park Street. Things were going to change, I could feel it.

10. Making it through a zillion snowstorms, even without four wheel drive.

11. Driving from St. Peter to Mankato without brakes because I was too cheap to spend an extra $40 at the in-town brake shop.

12. Making it home for the holidays, with my brother. Driving to Poker to see my blood brothers.

13. Making it to the boundary waters in four hours. Making it back with fish guts on the seat.

14. Other events that I am too much of a gentleman to describe in detail, but would probably be rated PG-13.

15. Making it through the gas hikes, the jobs, the education, the journey, and life in general.

Ford Tempo Utah, I'm going to miss you. We traveled the same path, but now you'll be on a different freeway. And there will never be traffic jams, rough roads, highway patrol, or hippies. So here's one for me, and one for my homies [pours a shot of motor oil on the front lawn].

On an unrelated note, if anyone is planning grocery shopping trips, or would like to offer me a lift until I get my third hand-me-down vehicle, please let me know!

The Prophecy is Coming True

Today at the Badger game, a fan asked the players who would play them in a movie. John Stocco answered "Vin Diesel."

Things that Piss me off About Connie and Fish

Alright, I hate the Z104 morning show, which is exactly why it stays on my clock radio: I'm usually so enraged after fifteen seconds that I bolt from my slumber ready to kill. However, after this morning I think I rose to a new level of pissed/pumped.

They were discussing the recent school shootings and concluded that the following was the only way to stop the violence: (1) Guards at every school door, (2) metal detectors at the doors, (3) random searches of multiple lockers daily, and (4) monitoring email, phones, and letters to detect threats of violence, and (5) taking away guns, and (6) punishing this kid badly as an adult. Then one of their stupid ass callers explained that kids couldn't be safe because lawyers prevented all of this with "frivolous lawsuits." And they agreed with her.

I admit that I've acquired a certain superiority complex after attending law school. Afterall, most laypeople (we call them "normies") are morons. However, I'd like to think that in the wake of the 9/11 governmental hysteria, we all would have learned a little something about protecting people's liberties. It pissed me off to no limit to hear these douchebags discussing spending millions of dollars on suspicionless searches, as if our society would be so much better afterwards. I wanted to call in so they could feel the full weight of a massive cockslap, but I have a feeling I would have been cut off after the first 18 "fucks." This is how things start, first we search lockers, then we monitor email, then we approve of warrantless wiretaps on telephone calls. next thing we know, King George will be waltzing through our door and demanding that we quarter his soldiers and there won't be a thing we can do about it.

I think my latest rant embodies one of the few major complaints I have about Madison. People here are all about free speech and individual rights until they don't like what's being said. I hear alot of talk about the bill of Rights and how Bush is violating it, but those critics tend to gloss over the right to bear arms and the right of the states to make moral calls in legislation. People are all about free speech until it's a Nazi rally...then we shouldn't have issued them a permit [Note: I do not endorse the Nazi party, but I defend their right to speech and assembly]. Here it's alright to vote, so long as it's not for Bush. When the Constitution becomes selective to the popular will, we come dangerously close to the perils our founding fathers sought to avoid, and these morons on the Z104 morning show perpetuate the attitude that individual liberties should bow to being PC. Oh and here's something I left out: People have a Constitutional right to a Defense!! Let's save the lynching for after the conviction.

Plus, everyone on that show thinks they're hilarious. There's nothing doucheier than laughing at your own mediocre jokes for five minutes. When I laugh at my mediocre jokes, it's over in fifteen seconds. Finally, the worst thing in the world is waking up to another beautiful day, then having your first seconds of consciousness pierced by "London Bridge." Fuck those fuckers.

Brief Nip/Tuck Recap

1. Rosie O'Donnell!? Rancid.

2. Hillbillies and quasi-incest. Unexpected. And also rancid.

3. Christian giving in to the blackmail. Stop being such a pansy ass.

4. Organ Theft. Great twist, but a little too early in the season to reveal the culprit, and I'm disappointed that it didn't involve one of my favorite recurring characters: Bobolit.

5. Kidnapping the Scientologist. Should have used a taser to take down the mad Scientologist, idiots.

6. Buying a porsche to buy Matt's loyalty. It would work on me.

Previews:

Next episode should be what Nip/Tuck does best. It looks like a view of an alternate future, much like the episode where Julia experiences what life would have been like without Sean. Apparently, Monica has a baby by Sean, Christian is paid to have sex with his boss by her husband, and some other messed up stuff happens. But the best part is the return of the dead/incarcerated cast. Escobar Gallardo returns in what promises to be another great episode and the "alternate endings" will most likely blow my mind.

Animal Review to the Extreme

I bet you all thought that I got tired of my lame animal reviews. Well if you thought so, then you have completely underestimated my ability to run ideas into the ground. So here it is, one of the most extreme animals to walk, run, or trample upon the earth.

JOHN STOCCO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FACTS:

1. Stoccos are natural predators. They mainly eat Gophers, Wolverines, Buckeyes, and burritos.

2. Most people have 23 pairs of chromosomes. John Stocco has 72, and they're all poisonous.

3. Stocco actually invented a time machine and has gone back to every year in history to win the Heisman. His first victory was when he flung a football into the skull of the giant defensive lineman Goliath. Back then he went by "David."

4. Stocco majored in Agricultural Journalism, making him fit for both Agriculture AND Journalism. What the fuck have you ever done?

5. John Stocco has diversity jurisdiction no matter where he sues.

6. The Number "7" has always been viewed as a holy number. Coincidence? I think not.

ANALYSIS:

A solitary killer, the Stocco is extremely effective at hunting his prey. Normally he opts for the camouflage that throwing a screen pass gives him. However, Stocco is extremely efficient at handing the ball off. Don't believe me? Look at Brian Calhoun, who rushed extremely well when Stocco was handing him the ball. The aerial circus is always on when Stocco is awake. But also when he's asleep. I would rate Stocco in terms of badass passing ability, but I don't think my computer can make the infinity symbol. In fact, I think this whole discussion is just way too awesome to even continue.